Innocent Transgressions
by Psychroma
Summary: A series of drabbles dedicated to my favorite Persona character, Theo.
1. Innocent Transgressions

"Welcome to the Velvet Room. How may I help you today?"

Those repetitive words pained her as much as it pained him. Theodore would give her fake smile, follow a monotonous routine, and act like a soulless robot incapable of feeling the cursed blessing known as "emotion."

She tried to get him to stop acting so aloof towards her, but he pleaded that she remain distant, lest he forget his duties. She didn't know why she had complied with that request, but somewhere within her being, she felt as if she must.

But…

Such constrictions could not be absolute, could it? Nothing was.

Just seconds before, she stood behind the mysterious door, knees shaking, temples sweating, her heart pounding faster than the beating of a hummingbird's wings. She considered running away, but in her anxiety, she lacked the ability to consider her options. Thus, there she stood, before the man she loved.

"Theodore, I…" the girl began, summoning all of her courage to speak.

Theodore recognized that tone of voice: it lacked the feigned professionalism she promised herself to maintain. He could feel his chest cringe at the words to come. _Will you go out with me? Want to go get some takoyaki? _Would he be able to control himself from accepting that sinful offer?

Recognizing his downcast expression, the girl breathed deeply, temporarily halting her emotions from suddenly flooding out. "I need to talk to you, Theodore. Privately, please."

She cast a glance at Igor, who seemed not to mind. He simply gave her a questionable stare, before curtly nodding at Theodore to make his way outside the room with their guest, probably for no longer than a few minutes.

The girl stepped outside into the human realm, her face hung low, waiting for the blue-clad man to emerge from his cell. She replayed what she intended to say over and over again, simultaneously wanting Theodore to come out as soon as possible before she forgot and wanting Theodore to stay inside until the words were permanently embedded in her memory.

It surprised her when she rose up her head and met with the man's striking amber eyes. At that moment, she completely forgot the carefully memorized dialogue she ardently prayed to accomplish.

After a brief silence over the implications of the meeting, Theodore finally asked, trying to control his voice from shaking, "…What is it?"

Say it. Say it. Just _say it. _The girl felt her cheeks swelling up as she forced herself to speak the life-altering words:

"Theodore, I'm pregnant."


	2. Glove

"Your bow… I-It's undone."

She didn't care. She didn't care at all. He might as well criticize her clumsily buttoned top, her messy hair, or her disheveled clothes. None of it mattered, not after what they had just shared.

Theodore lowered his gaze to the girl's lap, where her trembling hands quietly lay. Her palms imprisoned one of his white gloves, clenching it as strongly as the grip of Time, refusing to let the fabric so much as breath in fear that it would be stolen away.

Gently, he placed his ungloved hand on top of the girl's, attempting to comfort her (or perhaps, in reality, himself), but she only clenched it more fiercely. After all, he couldn't leave without one of his belongings, she reasoned.

"Theodore, no," the girl murmured meekly, a subtle, obstinate strength lacing her voice. "You can't have it. I won't let you."

A guilty chill seeped through his skin, traveling throughout his body and attacking his deeply beleaguered heart. Was the punishment of his sin beginning, so soon after he committed it? Surely, if he were to commit another act of disobedience, his pain could only be multiplied tenfold.

And yet, he too, didn't care.

He allowed his pale hands to touch her cheeks, wet from the silent tears she shed. With his thumb, he wiped dry a droplet that leaked out of her eye, before it could serve to remind him that it was _he _who caused such cursed liquid to appear.

Casting away the sole glove he wore, he pulled the shivering girl towards his chest as he did before, tightly embracing her, trying not to cry.


	3. Lyra

"Papa, Mama, I wanna go there!" Lyra shouted, "Let go, let go!"

Mother and father released the grip they had on their rambunctious daughter, smiling in weariness from the inexhaustable amounts of energy she possessed. Mouth agape with wonder and awe at the playthings presented before her, the child surveyed the unfamiliar area, encapsulating every little detail of the old equipment with her sunny, golden eyes.

"Ah, she's growing so fast," Theodore commented, sighing wistfully to himself, "It makes me feel so...sad. Time flows so cruelly in this world."

"It flows differently in the Velvet Room, right?" the woman besides him asked, sharing a sorrowful smile.

"Err, yes, basically," Theodore replied, figuring out it would be best to save the physics jargon for a less sentimental moment, "Even I can feel the temporal configuration here taking a toll on my body. It seems to be accelerating at an exponential rate in regard to our daughter's growth." Closing his eyes thoughtfully, he added, "A temporal paradox, it seems."

The woman chuckled; Theodore said such weird things sometimes. But, to her, it was just one of his many strange, strange charms that she would probably never fully understand, another reason why she fell for him at such a young age.

A sonorous gasp then filled the air, capturing the attention of her nostalgically onlooking parents.

"What is it, Lyra?" her mother asked, amused at her child's total disregard for vocal quietude.

Lyra, her right arm outstretched dramatically, pointed to a simple, rusty structure near the outskirts of the playground, "Look!"

"What about it?" Theodore inquired, holding in a laugh at his cute little girl's decisive expression.

Eyes flaring up with an irreconcilable determination, Lyra approached the horizontal bar, and promptly (tried) to stand on top of it.


End file.
